


Graphite

by RedRowan



Series: Stars and Horns [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Canon Disabled Character, F/M, Female Matt Murdock, Rule 63, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, girl!Matt Murdock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 13:58:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9747641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRowan/pseuds/RedRowan
Summary: Valentine's Day can be a little difficult when you're an international fugitive.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick little Valentine's day piece! I love you - each and every one of you.

It’s February 12th before Steve realizes that Valentine’s Day is coming up. It’s not his fault, he reasons, they’d had a mission in Syria all January trying to find a powerful artifact before Hydra did, and the mission had expanded into helping a group of refugees flee the country, and now the four of them are holed up in a safe house in Jordan, barely able to leave the house until Nat confirms that no-one has followed them.

Syria had been hard for Mattie. She’d burst into tears the first day in Aleppo, telling Steve behind a closed door about the bodies she could smell, the shelling and cries for help she could hear.

“First time in a war zone,” she’d said, crushed against his chest.

“Yeah. I remember what that’s like,” Steve had said, putting his arms around her.

They’d crossed the border into Jordan on the 12th, and it had only been Sam’s joking mention that they were just in time for Valentine’s Day that had reminded Steve.

He’d actually sworn. Out loud.

Last year, he’d taken Mattie to Paris. They’d stayed in a five-star hotel, eaten at fancy restaurants, and walked hand in hand along the Seine. He’d given her a necklace. She’d left it with Foggy in New York, safe in the trunk with her father’s boxing gear.

In a panic, Steve asks Sam what to do, and gets a long-suffering look in response.

“How about you two hole up and leave me and Nat in peace?” Sam says. The four of them are sharing two rooms at the top of the house, and it’s a little cramped.

“Think that’ll work?”

Sam shrugs. “I don’t think she’s expecting roses this year.”

Steve enlists Nat’s help in procuring a bottle of Jordanian wine, and in the afternoon on the 14th, he tells Mattie that he thought they could have a date. He takes two portions of dinner into their room, and they sit on the floor next to the bed, one of Nat’s computers playing music from Steve’s iPod.

“Where did you get this?” Mattie says, drinking the wine.

“Jordan apparently has a wine industry,” Steve says. “I’m just as surprised as you are.”

She smiles, something which was rare in Syria, and she kisses him.

“Thank you,” she says.

 “I know it’s not exactly Paris -“

“Hey.” She puts her hand on his cheek. “We get to be together. I call that a win.”

When they finish eating, she carefully puts the dishes aside and slides her leg across his lap, straddling him.

“I couldn’t get you anything,” she says apologetically.

“I don’t need anything.”

“Well, I thought I’d give you a drawing,” she says.

“You drew something for me?” he says in confusion.

She shakes her head, grinning, and slowly peels off her t-shirt, then unclasps her bra.

“I thought you might want to draw _me_ ,” she says. She stands up, unbuckling her belt, and lets her pants drop, then her underwear, until she’s completely nude in front of him. Steve shifts onto his knees, reaching out as if he’s never seen her like this before, brushing his fingertips over the bare skin of her hips, pressing a kiss to her belly. She strokes his hair as he rests his cheek against her.

“I love you,” he whispers against her skin.

“Love you too.”

He grins then, and hooks his arm around her thighs, throwing her over his shoulder, tossing her onto the bed. She yelps with laughter until he kisses her mouth, then he steps back. Her smile…that, more than anything, is what he wants to draw.

And her smile turns even more wicked as she slides her legs against each other, wriggling on the bed.

“So…you wanna draw me like one of your French girls?” she says.

“What French girls?”

“No, it’s - sorry, pop culture reference.” She waves a hand impatiently. “You in?”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I’m in.”

She drops her voice into a seductive purr. “How do you want me?”

_On your back, underneath me, with me inside you._

“I…uh…cross your legs?” he says. She does, bringing her knees up so that she’s dangling one foot coquettishly in front of her. “And…uh…just let your arms relax.” She does, and he gently moves one so that her arms are resting wide on the bed, as if she’s waiting to embrace him. “Perfect.” He goes to his bag, pulling out his sketchbook and pencil.

“You better get those off, too,” she says.

“I - what?”

“Your clothes. There’s such a thing as reciprocity.”

“There is no way that it makes a difference to you.”

“It’s more about fairness, really.” And there’s that wicked grin again. “Oh, and I’ll _definitely_ be able to tell.”

He considers refusing. He considers throwing himself on the bed and kissing her into submission. He pulls off his t-shirt instead, and her grin grows wider.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” she says.

He has to laugh as he pulls off his pants and boxers, then he settles himself on the end of the bed with the sketchpad. Once he starts drawing, he’s not self-conscious about being naked.

Mattie is posed like a pin-up from Steve’s memories, and it’s almost nostalgic to draw her, the way he used to draw tongue-in-cheek nudies for Bucky and the Howlies. She’s not as curvy as they’d liked their girls in the 40s, and he doesn’t exaggerate her proportions, letting his pencil outline her lean shape, shade in the lines of her muscles, strong thighs fading into the curves of her buttocks, a dark strip in between them that promises more. He lets the graphite lines gently trace the soft swell of her breasts, the darker caps of her nipples. Up the pale plane of her throat to her face, try to capture the way her hair falls over her forehead, the way her eyes crinkle at the corners, the way her smile offers love and laughter and sex all at the same time.

When he’s done, the girl on the page looks full of life, like she’s about to jump up and wrap you in her arms.

“How does it look?” she says.

“It’s not bad,” he says, closing the sketchbook and putting it down on top of his bag. “You’d look right at home in some GI’s locker seventy years ago.”

She laughs and her foot bobs up and down in the air. “Doing my part for the war effort?”

He grabs her foot and swings it down, spreading her legs. He kisses the inside of her thigh, just above her knee. “Well, please allow a lonely soldier to thank you for your service, ma’am,” he says.

“Mm, anything for our boys.”

He moves up her body then, until he can kiss her lips, tasting the wine in her mouth.

“I know it’s selfish,” he says, “but I’m really glad you’re here.”

She wraps her arms around his shoulders to kiss him again, better than any pin-up. “Nowhere I’d rather be,” she says.


End file.
